


Through the Clover, Soft-footed and Swift

by katajainen



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [16]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Fluff, I blame the challenge, M/M, Mating run (sorta), No beta - provided as is, Silly, Things I thought I would never write, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katajainen/pseuds/katajainen
Summary: Thorin, when not a dwarf, is a wolf.Bilbo, however, has been reluctant to reveal his four-legged shape. But when he does take the chance, on a lazy afternoon at Beorn's house, everything turns out better than fine.





	Through the Clover, Soft-footed and Swift

**Author's Note:**

> Day 18 of the February Ficlet Challenge, prompt: Mass-conservation shapeshifting (must shift into something of approximately the same mass).

'You have to promise not to laugh.'

'On my oath,' Thorin said solemnly.

'Because there's this thing...' Bilbo hesitated briefly, shifting on his seat in the grass, before he continued. 'When you shift, the wolf is roughly the same size and weight as you are, am I right?'

The dwarf shrugged. 'I reckon so. But I have hardly weighed either shape on purpose.'

'And that your wolf is not much different in size that a true wolf might be?'

'As far as I can tell, yes. It has been useful at times. But how does this relate to your shape?'

'Well, first of all, it’s not a wolf, and then, you see – there's no way you can shift into anything much smaller than you are on two legs; where would the rest of you to go?' He gave an irritated huff, when Thorin had no answer. 'See for yourself.'

For a space of a breath the hobbit's outline wavered, then shifted into something else entirely.

Thorin found himself suddenly biting back a smile. 'I see why you complained when the bear called you a _little_ bunny.'

The rabbit sitting in the grass before him thumped the ground with its hind feet a few times, much as a hobbit might stamp down his foot. Its fur was the exact colour of Bilbo's hair when in two-legged shape, but the eyes were darker, brilliant like black pearls in the afternoon sun.

The rabbit was also the size of a full-grown hobbit.

'But it’s a fine shape, swift,’ Thorin concluded.

Bilbo-as-rabbit stood up on its hind legs and looked appraisingly at him. Then it bolted abruptly in a swish of a fluffy tail, only to stop a few yards away to glance back at him in a gesture that eloquently said 'Come on already!'

Thorin shifted mid-leap, two feet leaving the ground and landing on four paws. Bilbo led him a merry chase through the flowering meadows, surrounding the bear-man’s house, zig-zagging between the young trees in the orchard, sometimes ducking out of sight in the bushes, leaving only his scent for Thorin to follow.

When he caught up with him, Thorin didn't tumble him, as he would have a fellow wolf, but gently nudged at his shoulder with his nose. Bilbo replied by nuzzling at the side of his face, tiny licks followed by a slight tugging at the fur. This startled a laughter from him, dwarf-laughter, not wolf, and suddenly they were both wearing two-legged shapes again, rolling in the fragrant grass in a tangle of limbs, helpless with joy.

‘Well, that was fun,’ Bilbo finally said, grinning down at him. ‘We should do it again.’ There were blades of grass in his hair, and the light behind him made his curls look like cottontail fluff.

Thorin, breathless from the chase and laughter and Bilbo’s slight sweet weight atop of him, could only nod. ‘I think that your fur is rather well-suited for you,’ he managed eventually.

‘Well-suited, you say – no jokes about burrowing and big broods?’

Thorin groaned. ‘I may not be old, but I’m hardly some mannerless pup.’

‘That only means you’re smart enough not to blurt out all you think.’

‘What I think is that no matter the shape, you’re lovely and soft–’ he lifted a hand to wind one honey-colored lock of hair around his finger– ‘and swift-footed and quick to hide but brave at need.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘It’s also of wolves that ill tales are told.’

‘And I’d be a fool to believe those rather than what I have seen with my own eyes; felt in my own skin–’ he leaned his cheek into Thorin’s hand, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, then smiled at him, slow and sly.  ‘There’s one thing though, that they say of rabbits that applies to hobbits as well.’

‘And that is?’ asked Thorin, voice suddenly gone hoarse.

‘Guess.’ And then his love, smooth and sleek in both his skins, took pity and leaned down to kiss him, without haste, soft and sweet as a bed of clover.


End file.
